


The Calm and the Storm

by ishouldbeworkingrightnow (notjustalittlegirl)



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Aftercare, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Spanking, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 14:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11419482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustalittlegirl/pseuds/ishouldbeworkingrightnow
Summary: Gleb needs things that Anya is unwilling to give him.Her husband is a different matter.





	The Calm and the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much an excuse for me to write this pairing. It's possibly garbage. I picture this taking place a little bit in the future, if Gleb stayed in Paris with Anya.
> 
> I don't own Anastasia, and I'm making no money from this. Don't sue me, I'm poor.  
> Wow, am I really posting this??  
> If you are Quinn or anyone else I know, please do not mention this, mmkay??

There were certain things that Gleb needed, had needed for quite some time. Ever since he had followed Anya from Russia, Gleb had felt more and more lost, more and more guilty for everything that had occurred in his lifetime and had happened to all the Russian people. The Romanovs included.

Even if he wasn't directly responsible for it, he couldn't help but feel guilty for what his family, both biological and by default, had done.

There were things he needed to feel grounded, to lift some of that weight off his shoulders if only for a short time, and Anya couldn't give to him, wasn't willing to give to him. Her gentle nature and kindness prevented her from going that far to help her friend, even if she wanted him to feel better.

Her husband was a different matter altogether.

Currently, Gleb was kneeling with his bare back facing Dmitry as the younger man gave him lash after lash with a leather whip. acquired from who-knows-where. With each strike, Gleb's whimpers grew a tiny bit louder and a tiny bit more desperate for the other to hit him _more, harder._

He had been given orders not to move, orders that were becoming harder and harder to follow with each strike. Dmitry had let him hold on to the sides of the sofa, and Gleb's knuckles were nearly white from how hard he was gripping it in his attempt to be good, and listen to what Dmitry had told him to do. To stop being the former Bolshevik general who wondered every day if he should go back, and be a good boy for Dmitry.

He was fairly certain that Dmitry hadn't broken skin yet, and he wished that he'd just get on with it. Gleb couldn't feel truly better until he was a whimpering mess laying at Dmitry's feet, he had found.

"Last one," Dmitry said, and Gleb almost cried. He wanted _more,_ he never wanted Dmitry to stop lashing him, not until the skin on his back had been stripped away and the painful sting became permanent, a reminder of these moments. 

Dmitry didn't hold back on the final lash, and Gleb gave a choked off scream as the full force of the whip cracked across his back.

Dmitry put the whip aside and placed a hand in Gleb's hair. He ran it through softly, going from dominating to comforting in a moment. 

"How do you feel, Gleb?"

His voice contained a tenderness that was usually reserved for Anya, and Gleb forced down the urge to rub his head against Dmitry's hand.

"G-Good. Don't s-stop."

Dmitry chuckled quietly. This happened every time. Gleb never wanted to stop, and Dmitry knew that the other man would let Dmitry whip him until blood was running down his back in trails. "Gleb, if I whip you anymore, it could scar. But..." He seemed to be hesitating, as if debating with himself about what he wanted to say next.

"...We don't need to stop quite yet if you don't want to."

Gleb's interest peaked. He and Dmitry have never tried much else than the whip, mostly because Gleb finds it incredibly, brutally, effective.

"I don't want to stop."

He didn't hesitate, even for a moment, before answering Dmitry. When they first began doing this, he would have been satisfied with about one quarter of the lashes Dmitry gave him today, but as time went on he found that it took more and more to plunge him down into that blissful headspace where he didn't need to think about anything save the present.

Dmitry nodded, and moved his hand from Gleb's hair to his shoulder.

"Drop your pants." Suddenly the dominant tone returned to Dmitry's voice, and Gleb was slightly confused. This... arrangement between them had never been sexual, and so he could not figure as to why Dmitry would be asking this of him.

Sensing his apprehension, Dmitry squeezed Gleb's shoulder reassuringly.

"It's alright. I've been thinking about trying this for some time, and I think you'll find it may be exactly what you need. Just..."

His voice grew nervous, almost guilty, for a moment.

"...Don't tell Anya. She might not like it."

Although, outside of these moments, Gleb wouldn't trust Dmitry any more than a pig should trust a butcher, in this sanctuary he knew that Dmitry would care for him in the way he needed. Therefore, wondering what Dmitry had planned that Anya might not have liked, Gleb slowly, shyly, took down his trousers, letting them fall to the floor until they lay in a heap and he was left kneeling before Dmitry in nothing but his underwear.

Dmitry gave Gleb a pointed look, and and the older felt like dying as he pulled those down as well and got to his feet before the still fully clothed Dmitry completely bare.

"Good boy," mused Dmitry. "Now, over my lap."

Suddenly, Gleb realized exactly what Dmitry had planned. A spanking. Something they'd never explicitly discussed, but Gleb couldn't think of any reason to immediately dismiss.

Gleb laid himself nervously across Dmitry's lap, ass within easy striking distance of the other man's hands.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he whispered gently, and then delivered the first slap to Gleb's ass.

Gleb twitched at the sting. It was barely painful, but after a large amount of them he was sure that he would have trouble sitting down this evening.

"Count them," said Dmitry in his dominant voice, and Gleb instantly obeyed, counting the first stroke to have been delivered.

By stroke number five, it was obvious to Dmitry that Gleb was beyond embarrassed, based on the way he buried his face in the sofa and mumbled the numbers so quietly that Dmitry could barely hear them.

"What was that?" 

"S-Seven."

Gleb's voice was shaking, but he wasn't asking to stop, so Dmitry continued on, laying hit after hit on the other man's ass as Gleb counted.

The spankings might not have hurt as much as the whipping, but _God,_ they were _humiliating._ Gleb hadn't been spanked since he was a little boy, since before Anya's family was killed, and he hadn't realized feeling it would give him to be put across someone's lap as a grown man. Like he was still a naughty little boy, and had to be punished like one.

It was more effective than he had thought it would be.

He continued counting as Dmitry continued to hit him, until his mouth could no longer successfully form words. The other man realized that he had stopped counting and, taking this as a signal that Gleb was nearing his limit, delivered two final smacks, one to each cheek, then stopped. Dmitry placed a hand under Gleb's chin, and forced his red face up off the couch to meet his eyes. 

Gleb hadn't realized that he had started crying softly until Dmitry wiped a tear away from under his left eye. Then he burst into full out sobs.

Dmitry shushed him softly, before pulling Gleb up from his lap and into his arms. Faintly, Gleb knew that he should be embarrassed, crying in the arms of the husband of the girl he loved while buck naked, but Dmitry's comforting arms felt too good for him to feel anything except the headspace that was the entire point of this arrangement.

"It's alright, Gleb. You did so well." Dmitry ran a hand through Gleb's hair and squeezed him tightly. Gleb buried his face in Dmitry's shoulder and continued crying.

"T-Thank you, D-Dmitry."

The other man practically _cooed,_ which was a sound that Gleb never thought he would hear coming from Dmitry's mouth, and kissed his forehead. It was a display of affection that had never passed between the two men before, and neither Gleb nor Dmitry could deny that, in this particular situation when so many other unexpected things had passed between them this afternoon, it felt _right._

"You're very welcome, Gleb. Now, let's get you dressed and see what Anya has made for dinner tonight."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I should regret this. Anyway, sorry don't yell at me please.


End file.
